


Scent Memory

by lasergirl



Series: Power Generation [3]
Category: Forrest Gump - Fandom
Genre: Power Generation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-02
Updated: 2010-04-02
Packaged: 2017-10-08 15:08:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,676
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/76909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lasergirl/pseuds/lasergirl





	Scent Memory

_**Forrest Gump: Scent Memory**_  
**Title:** Scent Memory  
**Fandom:** _Forrest Gump_ (movieverse)  
**Rating:** General  
**Warnings:** God talk and swearing  
**Notes:** This can be taken as part of [](http://community.livejournal.com/powergeneration/profile)[**powergeneration**](http://community.livejournal.com/powergeneration/) (where Lt. Dan is a mild situational precog) or as a standalone. In any case, it's dedicated to [](http://hannahrorlove.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://hannahrorlove.livejournal.com/)**hannahrorlove** as her holiday vacation present, which she will find waiting for her when she returns. *hearts;

  
**Forrest Gump: Scent Memory**

**

It took a couple weeks for Forrest to get used to Vietnam. After boot camp, it was easy. Lt. Dan didn't yell the way the drill sergeant had; when he growled, everyone in his platoon jumped to and did what he said, no questions asked.

Things moved smoothly that way when they were in the camp, or when they were on what everyone called a 'hump.' Forrest didn't quite understand what that meant, but he knew it meant a lot of walking, and he was pretty good at that.

Lt. Dan was always getting funny feelings about the places they would hump to. Anything could set them off; the way the grass fell over a rock, or an arch of palm frond over their heads could send them all into a crouch with Lt. Dan hissing "Git down! Shut up!"

Forrest always did what he was told, so he got down and shut up, and this made Lt. Dan pretty happy. He got Forrest to do the interesting jobs like check inside of the secret tunnels they found in the jungle, and when they were back at the camp, he'd call Forrest into his tent sometimes for a smoke.

Lt. Dan smoked short little brown cigarettes with white plastic holders, and he offered one to Forrest once.

"They're a little strong, but you'll get used to them," he said, tucking one into the corner of his grin, "If the landscape don't kill you first, that is. How long you been here now, Private Gump?"

"Six weeks and five days, sir." Forrest shifted anxiously on the packing crate and sat on his hands. He'd never been friends with an officer before and he didn't know what to say. He sucked on the plastic tip of the cigarette and thought how it tasted like the way raisins smelled. When Lt. Dan leaned over with a waterproof match to light it, Forrest shied away.

"Well, it ain't gonna do much for you if you don't light it," Dan said with a grimace. "Don't tell me you're one of those young boys who don't smoke!"

"Never got in the habit, sir." Forrest said earnestly, "My Momma told me smoking was a dirty habit."

"Heh!" Lt. Dan's laugh sounded like the barking of a tensed-up dog. "Lotta habits much dirtier than this, you should be so lucky." He snapped the match off the heel of his boot and lit his cigarette with a big puff of smoke.

Forrest sat there and watched his Lieutenant pace and fret at the knotted rosary around his neck. Like most of the other platoons, unless they were on patrol, Lt. Dan didn't insist on regulation uniform, and the season's heat and persistent humidity pretty much ensured only the bare minimum was necessary. Forrest watched the little silver medallion hanging across his chest dance in the afternoon light.

"Is that Saint Christopher, Lt. Dan?" Forrest asked him. "My Momma gave me one like that when I left Greenbow. Said it would keep me safe."

"Did you sew it into your underwear?" Lt. Dan cackled, sucking on the nasty little cigarette. "The Lord'll cause you a mighty fine rash in this climate."

"No, I put it in the lining of my pack. Weather ain't that different from Alabama, really," Forrest said. He was starting to like spending time with his Lieutenant, even if he was a little strange. "Do you go to church regular, Lt. Dan?"

"No," he frowned darkly, fingering the knotted beads around his neck. "My own Momma gave me this hoping it might make me want to." He scuffed his toe into the hard-packed dirt floor of the tent, spitting little flecks of black tobacco.

"I go to the Sunday services when I can," Forrest offered. "Maybe this Sunday you can come, too."

"Oh, no thank you," snarled Lt. Dan savagely, his fist tightening around the worn medallion. "I got my fill of brimstone and fire back home, the last I want to do is have to worry about my own salvation in addition to keeping my platoon in one piece." There were a tense few heartbeats, and then he relaxed with a sigh. "You see, Gump, out here there's only one thing that can happen, and I can't change that. Men die out here. Whether they find God or not before they do, well, that isn't any of my business."

Forrest chewed on his cigarette and tasted the sweet tobacco on his tongue. It smelled different when it was burning, like the little stub Lt. Dan had left clenched between his teeth. Lots of things in Vietnam smelled different when they were burning. Palm trees, well they just smelled like grass most of the time, except when they burned with napalm, and then it was a sticky, burning gasoline kind of taste that rolled off the jungle. The mud smelled pretty good, earthy and rich, until something disturbed it. Forrest figured there were all sorts of things buried in it that shouldn't be.

"You got any brothers or sisters, Gump?" Lt. Dan asked him. He had an expression on his face that Forrest couldn't quite place. It kind of looked the way he always looked, but his eyes weren't mean and his teeth weren't showing.

"No, sir, I'm an only child," said Forrest. He'd wondered what it might be like to have brothers, but he knew pretty well what having a sister might be like. But when he thought of Jenny his stomach started to hurt, deep down.

"Then you don't have anyone to try to live up to," Lt. Dan grinned fiercely and ground his cigarette out on the dirt floor. "When all your life you're trying to fit into someone else's shoes, the walk can become a difficult one."

Forrest squinted at Lt. Dan's unpolished army-issue boots. "They don't look much like someone else's shoes, Lt. Dan," he pointed out. "They got your name in 'em."

Lt. Dan barked another laugh, slouched onto his cot and dug around in his duffel bag. "You're a riot, you know that, Private Gump? They musta had their fun with you in boot." He pulled out a battered metal cigarette case and cracked it open in his palm. "I wouldn't show just anyone this, they'd think I went soft. But there's somethin' about you that's different. This here's Annabelle and Jack - taken some years ago, but that's my brother and sister, there."

Forrest took the little faded photo between his fingertips and examined it closely. It was taken on the front porch of a big house, with the bright white of sunlight hitting the wall behind the three posed figures. There was a stocky boy in uniform, a thin girl in a skirt with her hair in waves and a boy with a very serious face that he knew to be Lt. Dan. The year '1950' was printed neatly in one corner in white ink. It smelled faintly musty, the way forgotten books sometimes did.

"They don't look like you," Forrest said carefully, as he handed it back. "Except the eyes. Your brother and you got the same eyes."

"That's about all we got in common," Lt. Dan put the photo back in the case and closed it with a snap. "He went into God's Army; he was a chaplain in Korea. God protected him, the sonofabitch. Got his wife and three-point-five kids, now he's some kinda preacher man in the Carolinas."

"That's a lot to live up to." Forrest wasn't too sure how a man could have three point five kids, but he nodded anyway. "I sure am glad I don't have a big brother."

"Yeah," Lt. Dan sneered and shoved the cigarette case back into the bottom of his duffel, burying it under a pile of socks. "Up 'til Jack, we had a man from our family fight - and die - in every single American military action. That was somethin' to be proud of, dammit, but he had to get soft! Raise kids." He waved his hands around angrily, "I don't know which is worse, the preachin' or the breedin', but war ain't about getting medals and having stories to tell your kids. You lay your life down for your country, not for some goddamn headlines."

Forrest thought Lt. Dan might just be a little crazier than he'd thought. "I'm just here for the honor of my country," he said. The cigarette was starting to taste bitter in his mouth. He took it out and set it gently on the edge of the packing crate, and sat on his hands.

"Honor, sure." Lt. Dan laid back on his cot and stared at the drab green roof of the tent. "You remember honor the next time you gotta shoot a whole Vietnamese family because they won't leave their village. You think of honor when you're off screwing some hooker in Saigon. You think of that next time you bury a mine or set a tripwire and tell me that's preserving the American Dream." He fell into bitter silence, fingering the rosary banded around his throat.

"Yes, sir," said Forrest quietly, not sure what else there was he could say to that.

Then Lt. Dan laughed again, and rolled up from his cot and scowled. "Private Gump, is your gear in order? We're humping again tomorrow and the weather looks like it might turn nasty. Go and see to that, will you?"

"Sir, yes, sir," and Forrest hurried out of the dark little canvas-covered dugout back into the clatter and hum of the platoon camp, Lt. Dan's bitter cigarette smoke still clinging to him.

END.  


Questions? Comments? Feedback always appreciated.


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